


To Move Heaven and Earth

by just_another_outcast



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: BAMF Jackie Arroyo, Broken Bones, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Gags, Gen, I might let him have a change of heart, Kidnapped for Ransom, Kidnapping, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Papa Gil, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Protective Gil Arroyo, Ransoms, Restraints, Violence against Children, and I can't whump kids tooooooo much, at least not very, because he's a child in this, but not as much as usual, i can't be that cruel to a child, no actual trafficking, not Vijay positive, teenage malcolm, that remains to be seen, the child is 16, threats of trafficking, tween ainsley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_outcast/pseuds/just_another_outcast
Summary: It's always been a joke among the kid's at boarding school that at least one of them will get kidnapped for ransom one day, but when it actually happens, Malcolm finds that it is anything but funny. Now, Gil and Jackie Arroyo clash with Jessica as they each do everything they can to get back the one they all love as a son before he's lost forever.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo, Jackie Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly
Comments: 42
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another multi-chapter fic! I have no idea how long this will end up being, but I can guarantee like at least five chapters, most likely ten, but then again, I'm horrible at guessing how long my fics are gonna end up being. Anyway, this first chapter will be the shortest of them if I have anything to say about it. I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!

Malcolm sighed as he slid his phone back into his pocket. He hated lying to Gil, but he couldn't exactly tell the man the truth either. Gil thought he was hanging out with Vijay that night, and Malcolm didn't have the heart to tell him that Vijay had cancelled on him yet again. It was the fourth time that Vijay cancelled on him at the last minute, and he'd completely stopped inviting him out anywhere. Vijay wouldn't even sit with him at lunch anymore. Malcolm wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, but Vijay wouldn't even talk to him about it. Whatever he'd done, Malcolm wanted to fix it, to fix the only friendship he had, but it seemed like he'd somehow messed things up so badly that Vijay wasn't willing to give him another chance. So Malcolm was alone, once again.

He supposed he would just stay at school an extra night, and go back to the city in the morning, arriving at the Arroyos' place when he was supposed to. Surely he could come up with a random story about what he and Vijay did, and assuage all of Gil's fears about him losing his only friend. Malcolm didn't want Gil to worry more than he already did, which Malcolm knew was quite a lot.

But that did leave Malcolm with the perplexing question of what he was supposed to do for the rest of the night. Everyone else was leaving school for the long weekend, but if Malcolm were to keep his ruse up, then he couldn't leave until the morning. Ainsley wasn't in boarding school yet, so it wasn't as if he could go visit her without their mother knowing, and although a little voice in the back of his head told him to visit his father, he knew that wouldn't be enough to fill his time.

Malcolm supposed he could spend the next several hours reading John Douglas' latest book. The man was, after all, one of his greatest inspirations. Malcolm hadn't told anyone but Gil yet, but he was already thinking of the FBI as a career path, and part of that was due to John Douglas, one of the greatest criminal profilers who ever lived. Gil was supportive of the idea, of course, although he insisted that Malcolm was more suited to the NYPD. Malcolm knew his mother would freak if he told her, and he couldn't even imagine what his father might say. Of course, they could both say that his career path would change, since he was only sixteen years old, but Malcolm was pretty sure that he knew where he was going. He wanted to bring killers to justice, and where better to do that than the FBI? But that was all a problem for another time. It was nothing that Malcolm needed to worry about for another few years at least.

The hours passed by, and soon enough, Malcolm was surely the only student left on campus. Everyone else had left. Even the staff left was minimal. But Malcolm's eyes were getting tired from staring at the pages for so long. The way John Douglas could construct a profile was enthralling, but Malcolm's eyes needed a break. It was a beautiful day outside, the New York fall not having turned too chilly just yet. He could take a walk around campus, go watch the sunset somewhere. It wasn't as if he had anyone on campus that he could hang out with. Even his teachers weren't fans of him due to his last name, and even if that didn't turn them off, his attitude did. Apparently, finishing teachers' sentences for them because he already knew exactly what they were talking about was frowned upon.

Malcolm shook his head and sighed. It didn't matter. He was fine on his own. He didn't need anyone. He had Ainsley and Gil and Jackie, and sometimes his mother too. He didn't need anyone else.

Fresh air truly was a wonderful thing. Malcolm took in a deep breath of that beautiful fall air as he stepped outside, book in hand, and began the walk to the best place on campus to watch the sunset. The light breeze played with his hair, bringing towards him the scent of someone distantly burning leaves. As much as he loved the city and missed it while he was at boarding school, the city just didn't have that. There were some smells and feelings that could only be captured when you got away a little bit. Every now and then, Malcolm was happy to be away.

Most of campus was deserted, everyone having gone home for the long weekend. A few staff cars still remained around various parking lots, and a supply van was still parked outside his dorm building. Malcolm walked around it as he made his way further away from most of the buildings.

Less than ten minutes later, Malcolm arrived at the benches on top of the hill overlooking the western horizon. The sun warmed his face as he sat down and got comfortable. It wasn't as if there was anywhere that he had to be. Malcolm spent a lot of time on those benches. They were a good place to study when the weather was warm and he wanted to be alone - at least, when he told himself that being alone was what he wanted, and not the life that had been forced upon him by his last name and his father's sins.

No sooner had he opened his book to begin reading again than Malcolm heard the obnoxious sound of a van in desperate need of a new muffler. Malcolm sighed and rolled his eyes, but took a glance towards the van as it came down the street, heading towards the edge of campus. It was the same supply van that had been outside his building earlier, likely having finished whatever deliveries it had for the day. Malcolm turned back to his book and plopped his feet up on the bench once again. He quickly became engrossed in John Douglas' profiling technique, only lifting his eyes from the page when he heard the telltale sound of a van door being thrown open.

The moment he lifted his head up, there was a hand around his mouth and an arm around his torso, trapping his arms at his sides. Malcolm shouted through the hand, but the sound was muffled. He struggled and kicked as his attacker began dragging him off the bench and towards the truck, his book falling into the dying grass below. He landed a kick against his attacker's shin, but despite the man's cry of pain, nothing changed. The arms around him didn't let up. Malcolm twisted and turned and fought like a caged animal, succeeding in dislodging the man's hand slightly from his mouth. Knowing he might not get another chance, Malcolm bit the hand as hard as he could, catching the edge of the man's palm. His mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood before the man was able to free his hand with a shout of pain. Malcolm was tossed into the van.

"You little bitch!" the man shouted, tackling Malcolm down onto the floor of the van. He got Malcolm onto his stomach and wrenched his arms behind him, pulling painfully on his shoulders. Malcolm could feel the van speeding away, taking him away from his boarding school.

"Let me go!" he shouted, his fear overriding the knowledge that his protests would do nothing. Malcolm tried to buck the man off him, but to no avail. His wrists were roughly tied behind him, with coarse rope that Malcolm knew would break his skin the more he struggled against the bindings. "What do you want with me?"

The man used his size to his advantage, keeping Malcolm held down with ease. Malcolm kicked out with his feet, but the man grabbed them tight, and tied them together. To Malcolm's horror, his legs were bent back, and his feet and hands were tied together, pulling on his shoulders and hips in a way that stretched to the point of pain.

"No, stop! Let me go!" he repeated as panic truly set in. There was nothing he could do to defend himself, absolutely nothing.

"Shut up, you brat," the man groaned. Malcolm was roughly shoved onto his side, and the man - who was wearing a ski mask - thrust a hand into Malcolm's hair, yanking his head back. He cried out in pain, and the man shoved something into his mouth. Malcolm tried to dislodge the fabric - it was a rag or a cloth or something, and Malcolm had no way of knowing where it had been before it was in his mouth - but before he could make any progress, the man grabbed onto him again and duct taped over the rag, nearly ear to ear.

Malcolm cried out in frustration, but he could tell that his cries were going unheard in every way. His sounds were almost completely muffled. He was completely restrained, gagged, in the back of a van, with a man in a ski mask. His shoulders, hips, and jaw were already aching, and every little movement, both from his struggles and the drive, was agony. His shoulders were going to dislocate if he wasn't careful. What was going on? Where were they taking him?

He tried to take a deep breath through his nose as tears filled his eyes. He was so scared. He was supposed to be hanging out with Vijay, not getting kidnapped. Clearly this was planned, based on the ski masks and the rope. The only solace was the ski mask. Based on what Malcolm knew of profiling, a victim generally had a greater chance of survival when their attacker covered their face. Since the man was wearing a ski mask, maybe he wasn't planning on killing Malcolm at all. His family was rich, so maybe it was for a ransom? It could've been something to do with his father, too. Whatever it was, it couldn't be anything good.

Malcolm glanced around the dark van as much as he could, but the only thing he could make out through his eyes blurry with tears was the man's satisfied smirk. He closed his eyes as more tears came. Why hadn't he just told Gil the truth and gone over to the Arroyos' early? He wanted to be with Gil, and with Jackie. He wanted to go home, but now, there was a chance that he would never see home again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I start school again next week, and i have no idea how often I'll be able to write. I'm hoping to still be able to update once a week. We'll see.

The only thing Malcolm could focus on was breathing. It was far too dark in the back of the van to see anything, and if he even tried to move, agony shot through his shoulders, wrists, hips, and thighs. Every time the van sharply turned, and he was thrown against the wall, the pain grew. The fabric shoved into his mouth and the tape over it muffled his cries, and that was the only positive Malcolm could think of. At least the man in the back of the van with him couldn't hear him cry.

Malcolm was so terrified. His tears were born of pain and fear, and it was all he could do just to breathe. He tried to breathe deeply and slowly, hoping that even breaths would calm his racing heart and slow his mind enough to form a plan. Hogtied as he was, there wasn't anything he could do. Malcolm was completely helpless against his attackers. He didn't even know how many there were. There had to be at least two - one in the back with him and one driving.

The man in the back was silent, and it was too dark to see what he could've been doing. There weren't any windows in the back of the van, and if there were lights, none of them were turned on. Malcolm could only be glad that the man wasn't actively trying to hurt him anymore. He had seemed to enjoy it, and Malcolm was known for being very good at pushing buttons in all the wrong ways, both intentionally and unintentionally.

There was no way of knowing how long it had been when the van finally came to a stop. They were back into the city, but NYC was one of the largest cities in the world. Malcolm had been able to hear the traffic of other cars for a while, but he'd known better than to try to scream for help. No one would've heard him, gagged as he was.

The van doors opened again, but it didn't change how much he could see. It was still dark.

"Get him out here," another voice ordered. That had to be the driver. The man in the back with him complied, and grabbed Malcolm by his hair. He was heedless to Malcolm's cry of pain as he dragged him over to the doors.

“You will walk,” the man said in a low growl. “Or, I can keep dragging you by your hair. It’s your choice. Are you gonna behave?” He emphasized his words by tightening the grip he already had in Malcolm’s hair, eliciting a whimper that Malcolm desperately tried to hold back. He nodded against the man’s grip. He would walk. “Good,” the man purred, his grip loosening as he began to pet Malcolm’s hair. “Good boy.” Malcolm shook under his touch, squeezing his eyes shut against oncoming tears. He’d never been more scared in his life, not even with his father.

The pain of being hogtied didn't abate when the man cut the ropes connected his wrists to his ankles. If anything, the pain intensified as his muscles and joints moved again. Against his will, Malcolm let out a sob, muffled as it was. The ropes around his ankles were removed, and Malcolm was pulled out of the van and placed on his feet. The man kept a firm grip on Malcolm's bicep, holding him close and holding him so tightly it hurt. A bruise would be there in hours.

"If you fight me, I will tie this rope around your neck and drag you like a dog," the man seethed. "Do you understand?" Malcolm nodded again as another tear made its way down his face. If he was going to get out, he needed to pick his battles.

"Hurry up!" the other man shouted from ahead of them. There didn't seem to be anyone else, just the two. The other man was wearing a ski mask as well. That man seemed completely uncaring, while the one roughly pulling Malcolm along seemed happy to cause him pain, the Hyde to the other man's Jekyll.

It was dark, but Malcolm could see enough to know that he was in the lowest level of what looked like a parking structure. There weren't any other cars around. Hyde pulled him along, through a large metal door and down concrete stairs into the basement of the building. It was even darker down there. Malcolm had to completely rely on Hyde to keep him from faceplanting on the bottom steps, and he hated it - he also didn't trust the guy to not let him fall.

He whimpered when he stumbled on the last step and the tight grip on his arm got even more painful. The lighting didn't get any better, so clearly Jekyll and Hyde knew where they were going very well, with muscle memory guiding them. Malcolm hadn't seen either one of them with nightvision goggles, and there was no light from a flashlight.

A moment later, Malcolm was roughly brought to a halt, and his other arm was grabbed. The grip was tight, but less painful.

"Don't struggle," Jekyll said. He sounded bored more than anything else. For the time being, Malcolm obeyed him. The ropes around his wrists were undone, but Malcolm didn't have time to contemplate any sort of escape. He was slammed down into a seat, and his wrists were rammed into the arms of the chair. They were quickly tied down, aggravating the bleeding scrapes that Malcolm had already caused with his struggles. At least he wasn't tied down as painfully as he had been in the van.

The room flooded with light. Malcolm flinched and squeezed his eyes shut, turning away for a moment. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and tried to get them used to the sudden brightness. There was an industrial spotlight in the room - which Malcolm could now tell was an empty storage room roughly the size of his childhood bedroom - pointed at him. It was a little off to the side, allowing Malcolm to see straight ahead, and see the camera that was pointing straight at him and his captors.

"Let's get this done, shall we?"

...

Any night that Gil spent alone with his beautiful wife was a lovely night, even when all they were planning on doing was eating dinner and watching a movie while cuddling on the couch. It was those little things that made married life special and precious, and Gil loved them more than almost anything. But when something was wrong with his kid, Gil would drop anything, even a night alone with Jackie, to be there for him.

So, when Gil's phone rang, and a quick glance at the number proved that it was Jessica, Gil didn't hesitate to excuse himself to take the call in the kitchen.

"Jessica? Is everything alright?" he asked. They never spoke unless they had to. Malcolm was always their go-between, and in general, the system worked. The less they had to see each other, the better. Jessica was the boy's mother, and Gil was not his father. He had to respect her wishes when it came to the sixteen year old, but that didn't mean he had to like her or agree with her, especially after everything that had happened between them. The sting of betrayal took a long time to fade away. It hadn't been long enough, even with Jackie, the absolute love of his life, by his side.

"No! I need you here, Gil, please, help me," she practically sobbed.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?" His heartrate was already spiking in fear, his mind conjuring up all the worst case scenarios, most of them involving Malcolm. Jackie stood at the counter, her head cocked in confusion.

"They took Malcolm," she said. Jessica was full on crying now, nearly hysterical.

"What do you mean?" Gil asked, despite knowing exactly what that sounded like. "Malcolm is at Vijay's tonight-."

"No, he's not!" Jessica shouted. "Someone took him, someone took my baby." She let out another wail, but it was muffled, as if she were crying into her arm in an attempt to remain quiet. Likely, she didn't want Ainsley to know what was going on yet. The house was large enough that if the eleven year old was in her room, then she likely wouldn't hear anything.

"I'm coming over, alright? Whatever's going on, we'll figure it out," he said.

"Get here as fast as you can," Jessica replied, then hung up. Gil turned to Jackie.

"I'm sorry, honey. I don't know what's going on, but I think Malcolm's in trouble. I need to go over to his mother's," he said, throwing on a coat.

"I'm coming too," Jackie said, tugging on her boots. Gil put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"You don't have to-."

"I want to," she interrupted. "You're not the only one who thinks of Malcolm as your son. If something's wrong, if he's in trouble or in danger, I need to be there too, and you can't stop me," she said, brushing past Gil and grabbing the keys to the LeMans. "Now hurry up, unless you want me to drive your car away without you."

Gil didn't even bother to reply. When Jackie dug her heels in, there was no swaying her. It was one of the things he loved and hated about her.

The couple was silent on their way to the Upper East Side, a far cry from their usual nonstop banter. It all added up to the dreadful feeling that something was horribly wrong.

Jessica was in tears when she answered the door for them. She gave Jackie an extra glance, but didn't say anything about her presence.

"What's going on?" Gil asked her as he stepped inside. If Malcolm really was in danger, then he didn't want to waste any time.

"I got an email, sent to my personal, private email," Jessica started, bringing them over to the computer in the study. "I didn't recognize the address, but it sent me a video file. I'm not sure what I expected it to be, but it wasn't- it wasn't-." She broke off, but pulled up the video and stepped to the side, taking a deep breath that Gil mirrored.

Gil was expecting a ransomware message, or revenge porn, or something horrible like that, but what he saw made his heart drop more than anything else ever could. The camera was focused on three figures. Two men, wearing all black, including ski masks, stood on either side of a chair. Tied down to that chair, with duct tape over his mouth, was Malcolm. Gil could see the the marks from the tears that had already fallen, despite the look in the kid's eyes that told him he was trying so hard to be brave.

"I'll keep this simple. Jessica Whitly, you have thirty-six hours to get us two million dollars. If you do that, Malcolm here will be returned to you, unharmed. If you call the police or don't get us our money, then I will get my money out of your pretty boy son in another way. I don't want to hurt him. My friend here," he paused, gesturing towards the other, larger man, who had remained silent. "Doesn't have such reservations. And we both know a lot of bad people. Malcolm is a good looking kid. There are a lot of men who would pay good money for some alone time with him." The man looked pointedly down at Malcolm, who was visibly shaking. Gil could see the light shining on fresh tears, despite the way the kid's eyes were squeezed shut. He'd never seen the kid look more terrified. "In fact, I'm sure that given enough time, we could make a lot more than two million dollars by pimping this kid out. But, like I said, I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to have to do that to him. Don't make me, Jessica. And don't make me go after your little girl next. We'll be in touch."

The video ended, but the nightmare had only begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite appearances or my track record, Malcolm is truly going to end up only moderately scathed. He'll be terrified and traumatized, but he's a baby in this, so I promise that nothing toooooo horrible is going to happen to him lol. Just some creepy bad guys and threats.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give Vijay a lot of crap in this chapter. He's an idiot teenager, and that's all Gil sees him as lol. I might let him be nice later. Only time will tell lol. Also, I've never really written Ainsley much in general, much less as an eleven year old, so I really hope that I'm doing her justice. I hope you enjoy!!!

There were many different types of anger. People always talked about anger being red hot, or even white hot. What they seldom mentioned was the anger that felt more blue. Of course, blue anger didn't exactly have a nice ring to it, but that didn't make it any less real. It was the sort of cold fury that one could only feel when they were too enraged to be anything but calm. Words came out through clenched teeth, but their volume was normal, not high and screaming like red hot anger. Sometimes, the less observant wouldn't even notice that he was angry. Gil was a detective. He had to keep a level head at all times, even when the boy he loved as a son had been kidnapped.

"Where the hell is Vijay Chandasara?" Gil asked through clenched teeth. His jaw already hurt, but he didn't care. Jessica shrugged, a hopeless air about her. Gil turned to Jackie, who had tears in her eyes, but was otherwise calm. "Go get Ainsley, don't let her be alone," he told his wife. Jackie nodded, then quickly made her way out of the study and up the stairs.

"What do we do?" Jessica asked. "I have to pay it, I have to get him back. I can't let them- what they said they'd do-." She broke off and shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself in a self-comforting manner.

"I'm not gonna let that happen," Gil immediately responded. He'd die before he let that happen to Malcolm. "I'm gonna find him, I'm gonna bring him home, no matter what it takes. I'm not gonna rest until he's safe, I promise." There was nothing that Gil wouldn't do to protect his kid. "Now, Vijay Chandasara. Where can I find him? Malcolm was supposed to be with him tonight."

Jessica nodded, albeit shakily. "Yes, yes, of course. Vijay. I'm sure I have his mother's phone number somewhere," she muttered, standing up and making her way over to the phone. There was a small book of handwritten phone numbers next to it. A soft padding coming from the stairs stole his attention.

"Mom? What's going on?" Gil turned to see Ainsley standing at the bottom of the stairs, a blanket wrapped around herself. Jackie stood behind her. Gil turned back to Jessica, who was at a loss for words.

"Keep looking for that number, Jackie will help. I'll talk to Ainsley," he said. After a moment, Jessica nodded. He walked over to the eleven year old, her hazel eyes looking up at him with a hint of suspicion. "Let's go sit down," he suggested. After glancing over at her mother, Ainsley nodded, and walked with Gil into the sitting room.

"What's happening?" she asked the moment she sat down, not giving Gil any time to figure out how to say what needed to be said. He wouldn't tell her everything about the video, but he would be frank. Ainsley was mature for her age, and didn't like being coddled. She wouldn't want him to sugarcoat things for her.

"Your brother's been kidnapped, by some bad people. If your mom pays them, they say they won't hurt him and they'll let him go. If she doesn't, or involves the police, they'll do bad things to him, and they might try to get you too," Gil said, as gently as he could. He didn't want to scare the girl, but he did need her to understand what was going on, at least for the most part.

"But you're the police," she said, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

"I know, but your mom didn't call me because she wanted a detective. She called me because she needed a friend, especially a friend like me, with resources, who loves Malcolm like he's my own kid," Gil said. "I'm gonna do everything I can to bring him home, I promise. I'm not gonna let them hurt him."

"Gil," Jackie gently called from the doorway. "She found the number. I'll sit with Ainsley."

"Are you gonna be okay with Jackie?" he asked her. Gil and Ainsley had never been close, the young girl never having needed him quite like her brother had, but he still wanted to protect her nonetheless. If she wanted him to stay with him, then Gil would find a way to make that work.

Ainsley nodded, and looked over to Jackie, who was coming towards them. Gil stood, and let Jackie take his place on the couch. They exchanged a quick glance, saying so much with only a look. They were going to be alright. They were going to protect these children, and be there for the Whitlys in whatever way they needed.

Gil made his way back over to Jessica, who held the small book open to a page with Mrs. Chandasara's phone number on it. "Should I call her, or should you?" she asked him. Jessica looked at him with such hopelessness that Gil's heart broke all over again. He needed to find Malcolm. There was no other option.

"I'll call her," he said, gently taking the book from Jessica. He punched the numbers into his cell phone, and waited for an answer. Hopefully, Vijay's mother would still be awake. It was getting rather late.

"Hello?"

"This is Detective Arroyo with the NYPD. Is this Vijay Chandasara's mother?" he asked.

"Yes, this is she. What's wrong? What did he do?" the woman asked in reply. She sounded much more mad than scared.

"Nothing, as far as I know, but I need to speak with him," Gil said. "He may know something about the disappearance of a fellow student of his. It is urgent that I see Vijay and speak with him." Gil didn't want to have to tell Mrs. Chandasara anything more than he had to. He wasn't very well versed in kidnappings and ransoms, but Malcolm was too important to him to risk involving anyone else until he had to. Gil couldn't let them do those terrible things they'd threatened.

"He just got home a few minutes ago. Should I take him down to the station?"

"It would be faster for me to come straight to you," Gil countered. Although he appreciated the woman's willingness to take her son to the precinct, doing so would involve more people than Gil was ready to. The Chandasara family lived in the Upper East Side, not too far from the Whitly house, according to what Malcolm had told him. The kid had also let on that the Chandasaras had made their money in some shady ways, but many people in New York did, so that wasn't some big surprise. But if the Chandasaras' illegal operations had something to do with Malcolm's kidnapping, then Gil would rain hell down on them and get them all put away.

"Okay, that's fine," Mrs. Chandasara replied. She rattled off the address. "I'll have Vijay waiting for you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Chandasara," Gil answered, then hung up. He turned back to Jessica. "I'm gonna go talk to Vijay. If he doesn't know anything, then I'm gonna have to call my lieutenant." Jessica nodded, albeit shakily. "Stay by the phone. Jackie will stay with Ainsley. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Gil left without another word. There was no time for polite goodbyes or even a kiss to his wife. Jessica would tell Jackie what he was doing if she asked. He was thankful for the LeMans and its speed, even when his destination wasn't very far away.

The Chandasara house was much nicer than Gil's own, but not quite as nice as the Milton estate. Gil parked the car and trotted quickly up to the door. He gave four firm knocks, and was glad to see a woman quickly approaching the door. Gil pulled out his badge the moment the door opened.

"Mrs. Chandasara, I'm Detective Arroyo," he greeted the clearly tired woman. It was nearing midnight.

"Of course. Come right in, I'll get Vijay," she replied. She walked away and Gil walked in, closing the door behind him and following her. She led him into a sitting room, where a teenager sat with his cell phone, clearly bored. "Vijay, this is Detective Arroyo. You will answer every single one of his questions, and you will answer them truthfully. Do you understand me?"

Vijay heavily sighed. "Yes, Mother," he said with a half-hearted nod, flipping his phone shut and slipping it back into his pocket. The woman gave Gil another nod, then walked away. "Detective Arroyo? Are you, by any chance, Gil Arroyo?"

"Yes, that's me," he answered.

"Whitly talks about you a lot," Vijay said with a smile. "So what can I do for you, Gil?"

"It's 'Detective' to you," Gil countered. From all he'd heard about Vijay, Gil wasn't so sure that he liked him, and the more he learned, the less he liked him. The teenager didn't seem stressed in any way, so unless Vijay truly cared nothing for Malcolm, he didn't know that the kid was missing. "Where did you and Malcolm go tonight?" he asked. Malcolm hadn't given him details. He'd only told him that he and Vijay were hanging out that night and Malcolm would drop by Gil's for the rest of the weekend in the morning.

Vijay looked up at him with confusion. "I wasn't with him tonight. I had a party to go to, and Whitly..." he trailed off for a moment with a cringe. "He's not exactly party material, even for a tame party." Vijay shrugged, but didn't seem to care much at all.

Malcolm had lied to Gil about where he was going to be that night. Malcolm only lied to him when he didn't want Gil to worry, so what didn't he want Gil to worry about?

"You mean you didn't have plans with him tonight?" Gil confirmed. "You didn't see Malcolm at all tonight?"

"Well..." he trailed off again, and at least had the decency to look sheepish. "He had wanted to do something, but I sort of cancelled on him this morning when I got invited to that party. It's not that I don't want to hang out with him, but no one else does. No one was gonna have any fun if Whitly was there too. Been there, done that." He cringed again and shook his head, almost in disgust.

For the second time in the same night, Gil's blood boiled. How could Vijay be so cruel to Malcolm? So what if Malcolm was a little different? He was the best kid that Gil had ever met, and the most selfless. He didn't want Gil to worry about him, so he'd lied and said he was hanging out with a friend even when that friend had dumped him.

"You were supposed to be with him," Gil seethed. Maybe if Malcolm had been with his 'friend', none of it would've happened.

"Hey, I told him something came up, and he said it was fine," Vijay defended. "I couldn't tell him the truth without hurting him."

"Did he say where he actually was tonight?" Gil asked through clenched teeth, his anger still coming through clear.

"He just said he'd get some work done around campus, homework and reading and boring stuff like that," Vijay responded, growing cautious. "What's going on?"

"Malcolm's been kidnapped. That's what's going on," Gil muttered. He shook his head and turned around, heading back for the door. Vijay clearly didn't know anything about what had happened, so he didn't want to waste his time there any longer, not even to answer the teen's sudden onslaught of questions. Malcolm didn't have time for that.

Maybe he was being too hard on Vijay, but Gil couldn't help but think that if Vijay hadn't blown Malcolm off again - because Gil did know that this was far from the first, or even the second time - then maybe the kid wouldn't have been kidnapped in the first place. Instead, Malcolm was alone, and vulnerable. Gil couldn't ever let that happen again.

Gil raced back to the Milton estate, his mind racing just as quickly as the LeMans. Malcolm had to have been taken while he was still on campus. Unless the kidnappers knew specifically where to go in a specific building, then they'd probably snagged the kid while he was outside. Gil knew that Malcolm took frequent walks around campus in an attempt to tire himself out enough that sleeping would be easier. If the kidnappers were smart, and it would seem as though they were, they would've waited to grab him until one of those moments, when he was alone. There wouldn't be any witnesses. Without any witnesses, Gil was back to square one. As a cop, he knew he needed to go the official route and have an official investigation opened. But as a dad - because that's what he was to the kid, and everyone knew it - he was terrified that one misstep would end in never seeing his kid again. Above anything else, he absolutely could not let that happen.

"Anything knew?" he asked the moment he stepped back into the Milton house. Jackie and Ainsley were still in the sitting room together, talking quietly, while Jessica sat next to the phone in the corner of the room, her head in her hands. She looked up at him, and she just looked so tired. There were old tearstains cutting through her makeup, but her eyes were dry. Jessica shook her head, then glanced back at the phone.

"They said they would be in touch. Shouldn't they be calling soon?" she asked. Jackie and Ainsley immediately quieted.

Gil shrugged. "I don't know," he replied hopelessly. "Vijay didn't know anything. He blew Malcolm off again. He didn't see the kid at all after class today. Jessica, we need to talk about calling the police." Kidnappers always said they would do bad things if cops were involved, but most of them knew that the cops were always going to get involved anyway. The man had seemed genuine when he said he didn't want to hurt Malcolm, but that meant he was likely being genuine with the rest of his words. If he didn't get his money from Jessica, then he would try to get it out of Malcolm in another way.

"You heard what that man said he would do to him if I called the police," Jessica replied, her voice wobbling almost imperceptibly. "I can't risk that." She shook her head, eyes narrowing as they began to fill with tears that she didn't want to fall.

"I can't get him back on my own," Gil countered. "I need resources, some way to find him short of banging on every basement in the city."

"He's right," Ainsley interjected. The young girl had her eyes narrowed and arms crossed. "I don't know what they said, but Mal can't get home on his own, and Gil needs help. Whatever they said, it's a risk you're going to have to take." She looked over at her mother with a certainty and courage that Gil certainly didn't feel, even though she was backing him up.

"You have no idea what they threatened," Jessica fired back, her fear giving her voice a tone of anger that Gil knew she didn't feel towards her daughter.

"How about you and I go somewhere else while your mom and Gil figure out what to do?" Jackie suggested, ducking her head in an attempt to catch Ainsley's gaze. It didn't work.

"No!" Ainsley shouted, standing up. "He's my brother, and I need to know that you're going to actually get him back."

"Of course, we're going to get him back," Gil affirmed. He wasn't going to rest until Malcolm was safe. "But the best way to do that is for me to call this in, get a trace set up on your phone, someone to look into the email. I can't do that on my own." He stared at Jessica, hoping that she would agree to going to the police. Even if she didn't, Gil would do it himself, but it would be much easier to work with Jessica rather than against her. Finally, she nodded.

"You're right, you're right," she muttered. "But are you sure it wouldn't just be easier for me to pay the ransom?" Gil immediately shook his head.

"You can't set that precedent. If word gets out that Malcolm was kidnapped and you immediately paid the ransom, then others might try the same thing and take him again, or take Ainsley," he explained. "They might ask for more money once they see you're willing to give two million."

"But what wouldn't I be willing to give for my son?" she asked, and she had a point. There wasn't anything that Gil wouldn't give up for Malcolm. There wasn't a single thing under the sun that meant more to Gil than that kid.

"I'm going to call the police," Gil gently said in lieu of a answer to her question. Jessica closed her eyes, but nodded. "You should check your email again. They might always communicate that way instead of over the phone."

Hesitantly, Jessica stood. She looked between Jackie and Ainsley, who both sat silently on the couch. Ainsley was swinging her feet where they rested above the ground, but her eyes were focused on her mother. Jessica nodded again, then left the room back towards the study. Gil and Jackie exchanged a glance before he followed Jessica into the study.

Even if he hadn't followed her, Gil probably would've been able to hear her sharp intake of breath from the next room over.

"There's another video."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter has the most whump in it. That usually wouldn't require a warning from me, but Malcolm is only sixteen years old in this, so I think it needed one. I'm also super sorry about the long delay. I watched a show that Tom was on back in like 2008 or whatever and his character should've gotten whumped but didn't, so I had to change that, and it turned into an 18k monster lol. But I'm back now and ready to go! Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review :)

The thought echoing in Malcolm's mind was 'what now?' How long would he be sitting there, tied down to the chair, gagged and unable to speak? Jekyll and Hyde had filmed their video, threatened him with horrible things, then laughed at him and walked away, turning off the spotlight, leaving him alone in the dark. At first, Malcolm had struggled against the ropes, but quickly found that that only made things worse. The ropes were rough, and struggling only aggravated the cuts already formed. He couldn't see the blood, but he could feel it. In fact, Malcolm couldn't see much of anything. Without the spotlight on, the room was pitch black. Even if he had been able to lift his hand, Malcolm doubted he would've been able to see it in front of him.

He had no reference of time whatsoever. It could've been minutes or hours, and Malcolm wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. All he knew was that he was alone, and freezing cold, and absolutely terrified. How was he supposed to just sit there and wait to be rescued? His kidnappers could always decide they could make more money by keeping him, and then take him to another location where he would be assaulted until they made more than two million. If there was one thing that Malcolm had learned from Gil, it was that bad guys seldom exaggerated how low they were willing to go. There was absolutely no reason for Malcolm not to believe them when they said that they were planning horrible things for him if his mother didn't get them their money.

But Malcolm couldn't exactly just wait around for one or the other to happen. He had to find a way out of his situation himself. Of course, his mother wasn't going to just let those horrible things happen to him, but there was no way of knowing whether or not his captors would actually let him go once they had the money. No, Malcolm needed to at least attempt an escape himself. They needed to know that he wasn't just going to sit down and wait for things to happen. But he couldn't exactly move from his position tied down to the chair either. That was an impossibility. Somehow, he was going to have to convince them to untie him, but without the use of his words, he wasn't sure how he was going to manage that.

All he was sure of was that he was thirsty, he was hungry for once, and he desperately needed a bathroom. With the duct tape over his mouth, he couldn't even ask for one, much less expect to be given the chance. If he were to get that chance, it would also be his best bet at escape. They wouldn't be able to tie his legs, and his legs were all he needed free. Malcolm could run, and he didn't need his hands free for that. But he couldn't do anything as long he was sitting there, in that chair, tied down.

It had to have been at least an hour later when the door suddenly opened again. Malcolm couldn't tell by height alone if it was Jekyll or Hyde. The latter was taller than the former, but without the other for reference, Malcolm couldn't tell. He also couldn't stop himself from shaking, no matter how hard he tried to keep himself calm. His heart was jackhammering in his chest, and he had to blink back tears at the thought of what the man might have been there to do to him.

"It's alright, little boy," the man said. It was definitely Hyde. That only added to Malcolm's fear. Jekyll was much less terrifying. "I'm not here to hurt you. Yet." He let out a dark chuckle that did nothing to assuage Malcolm's fear. The light from the hallway wasn't enough to let Malcolm see what Hyde was doing. The man was walking around the room, around the spotlight, but not turning it on. Why was he there? Malcolm struggled in the chair once again, but it still did nothing. 

He could hear him messing with something in the dark, then a tiny blinking light turned on, a beacon in the darkness. Hyde had turned the camera on. Only a moment later, the spotlight was on, making Malcolm squeeze his eyes shut and turn his head away from the sudden brightness. He forced himself to open them a moment later, he didn't have time to let his eyes adjust. Malcolm needed to be as aware of his surroundings as possible. Still, he couldn't stop himself from shifting in the chair once again, though he tried to focus on the criminal in front of him, rather than his hunger and thirst and other things.

Hyde slowly walked closer and closer, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at Malcolm, who squirmed in his seat once again. The man looked down at him with a knowing look in his eye. Malcolm struggled to keep his breathing calm and even, but he still flinched when Hyde put his hand on the rope around Malcolm's left wrist.

"It's alright," Hyde said. "I'm here to help you. I can tell you need it." His voice was sickly sweet in Malcolm's ear, making him shudder. Hyde's rough hands quickly untied the knots binding him to the chair, but he kept a rough grip on Malcolm's thin wrist. "If you try to hit me, I will break this hand," he said, giving Malcolm's wrist a squeeze, tight enough to be painful. "Do you understand?" Malcolm nodded, hoping that would be enough with his inability to speak.

Threat heard well enough, Hyde finished untying him, then yanked him painfully to his feet. His shoulders and thighs were still in so much pain from being hogtied, the sudden movement of the abused muscles eliciting a whimper that could be heard through the duct tape that Hyde hadn't removed from his mouth. Hyde only chuckled, then pushed Malcolm forward, a rough grip on his arm and neck directing him exactly where Hyde wanted him to go.

"There's a bucket in the corner just for you, pretty boy, and you can use it when you behave," Hyde said. He pushed Malcolm forward, towards an empty cleaning bucket stashed in the corner. He didn't let up on his grip on Malcolm's arm and neck. "See, good things come to good boys." Malcolm was too scared to move. "You better take this opportunity. You won't be getting another one any time soon." He shook Malcolm, eliciting a gasp from him.

Malcolm allowed himself a moment to take a breath, then focused on nothing but the wall in front of him. Thankfully, he could see the shadow on the wall from the spotlight. Hyde had averted his gaze, and even stepped back a bit and loosened his grip. This was Malcolm's only chance. He did what he desperately needed to, but paid close attention to the man behind him. Hyde was still looking away.

Instead of waiting for Hyde to notice that he was done, Malcolm thrust his elbow back, directly into the man's stomach, making him double over. Malcolm jabbed his foot back at Hyde's leg, connecting with his calf in a way that sent him to the ground, releasing his grip on Malcolm. Malcolm took the opportunity and bolted straight for the door, ripping off the duct tape across his mouth as he did so. The door was still wide open, allowing Malcolm to sprint down the hallway, towards another door.

The other door was locked.

"Damn it," Malcolm muttered. He could hear Hyde's groans of frustration and rage from behind him. Malcolm jiggled the doorknob again, but it refused to budge. He threw himself up against the door, but it remained strong. "Help me!" he screamed, pounding on the door. "Somebody help me!" Fear grew and grew in his heart as he heard Hyde approaching him. Malcolm turned around, knowing the door wasn't going to open. His only option was to fight. He needed to call on everything that Gil had taught him, everything he knew about kung fu and jiu jitsu, in order to have any chance of getting out. But did he really have a chance at all when Hyde had a solid one hundred and fifty pounds on him? Malcolm was short, and thin, and despite working out when he could, he was definitely no match for the hulking mass in front of him.

"I was gonna give you some food and water, but now you've lost that privilege," Hyde practically growled. It seemed Malcolm hadn't done any real damage to the man, and had only stunned him.

"I just wanna go home," Malcolm said, holding his hands up in defense. He couldn't stop his eyes from filling with tears. He missed his mom and sister and Gil and Jackie so much.

"You'll go home when he get our money. Maybe." Hyde grinned, an evil smile that Malcolm knew the exact meaning behind. Hyde wasn't planning on letting him go at all. He was going to get the money from Malcolm's mom, then he was going to do exactly what he'd threatened to do earlier and sell Malcolm.

Before Malcolm could respond, or make a move against Hyde, the door behind him slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.

"I warned you what would happen if you stepped out of line," Hyde said from above him. Malcolm tried to get his hands and feet to cooperate with him and stand up, but he was dazed. "You won't ever try to escape again, boy."

The loud snap of his ankle and the pain hit instantaneously. Malcolm screamed as Hyde dug his foot into Malcolm's ankle, the bone broken by the large man with ease. He writhed against the ground as his scream turned into broken off sobs. All at once, the pressure grinding down on his ankle vanished, but the pain didn't abate. He could barely make out the sound of someone being shoved up against a wall.

"You weren't supposed to hurt him," Jekyll growled.

"He tried to escape," Hyde defended.

"Of course he did," Jekyll said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "He's a kid and he's been kidnapped. What did you expect?" Through his sobs, Malcolm could hear them stepping away from the wall. "I would say you need to be more careful, but clearly he can't try anything again now. Tie him back up and send the mom her next instructions." He could hear Jekyll sigh, then the door closed again.

Malcolm didn't move. He kept his eyes squeezed shut against the pain as he sobbed into his elbow. He couldn't even imagine moving, but there was no way that Hyde was going to even help him up, much less give him a painkiller and a brace for his broken ankle.

After not even a minute of solace, the moment that Malcolm was dreading came to fruition.

"Get up," Hyde growled at him. Malcolm just shook his head. He couldn't get up, he couldn't even move. Hyde gave him a light kick in the ribs, jostling his ankle and pulling another whimper out of him. "You will walk," Hyde repeated.

"I can't," Malcolm said with a choked off sob.

"And whose fault is that?" Hyde grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him up with a cry of pain. "You walk, or I drag you. Which is it gonna be?"

Malcolm didn't know which would be worse, getting dragged back down the hallway into his prison by his hair, or being forced to put weight on his freshly broken ankle. Either way, he had to at least try to walk. He couldn't let Hyde have that win, no matter how much it hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Malcolm nodded, and Hyde released his grip on his hair. Using his hands and good foot, Malcolm pushed himself up into a solid sitting position, then, slowly, he got himself up onto one foot. His ankle began to throb even more, bringing a fresh wave of tears to his eyes. Malcolm put as much weight as he could against the wall, and slowly began moving along the wall, almost hopping against it to keep weight off his ankle. It was slow going, and mortifying, but anything was better than added agony in his ankle.

"Hurry up," Hyde said, an evil grin on his face and a chuckle leaving his lips. Malcolm shook his head. He couldn't go any faster, but he had a feeling that Hyde knew that. Before Malcolm could stop him, Hyde grabbed his arm and yanked him away from the wall, forcing him to put weight on his broken ankle. Malcolm collapsed to the ground with a scream, the shattered bone unable to take his weight. He laid on the ground for a moment, trying to breathe through the pain, until he felt someone grabbing at his wrists.

A rope was being tied around his wrists, then he was being pulled along the ground by that rope. A keening wail was pulled from his throat as his ankle was dragged quickly along the ground, until finally, they stopped. He could hear something metallic moving, and glanced up to see the chair he’d been tied to earlier being dragged to the side. Instead of being tied back to the chair, the rope connected to Malcolm’s wrists was tied to one of the empty shelving units bolted to the wall. At least Malcolm could lie there, unmoving.

“If your little brat hadn’t tried to escape, then he would have two working feet instead of one,” Hyde said with a chuckle.

Who was he talking to? Malcolm lifted his head up and saw, to his horror, that the camera was still on. It had recorded all of that. It had heard his screams for help and his cries of pain. Another wave of tears overtook him, and Malcolm buried his face back in his arm.

“So here’s what you’re gonna do,” Hyde continued. “You’re gonna get the two million in cash, in non-sequential twenty dollar bills, and you’re gonna drop it off under the marked bench in Riverside Park. You’ll know the one when you see it. Once we have our money, we’ll give you the location to pick up your brat. If you fail to drop off the money within the next thirty-three hours, then your son is ours to do with as we please.”

But that wasn't true. Hyde had implied the opposite, that he was never going to let Malcolm go, even after he got the money.

"He's lying!" Malcolm shouted. "He won't let me-," Malcolm broke off with a bloodcurdling scream as Hyde slammed his boot down onto his broken ankle once again. His scream fell into sobs as the white hot pain consumed him. Never in his life had he felt more pain.

"Your kid's a brat," Hyde seethed. "And if you don't get me my two million, I'm gonna have to teach him some manners. He will learn respect. He will learn his place. And you won't like my methods." Hyde fell silent. The only sound to be heard was Malcolm's cries. Slowly, he lifted his head up, and glanced over to see that the camera was no longer blinking. It was off, and Hyde was removing the memory card. Hyde looked over at him and glared, and Malcolm couldn't help but begin to shake in fear. "Never test me again," Hyde growled. Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut against his tears. "Do you understand me?" He could hear the man approaching him.

Malcolm's eyes shot open. "Yes, yes, I understand," Malcolm rushed out, hoping against hope that Hyde would just leave him alone. The man shot him an evil grin.

"Good," he practically whispered, then turned on his heel, and left. The door closed behind him, but Malcolm didn't hear it lock like he had before. A laugh echoed down the hallway. It didn't even matter. Malcolm couldn't walk. He couldn't escape. He was trapped, in agonizing pain.

Malcolm let his head fall back to his arms, which were pooled in front of him, wrists still bound with the rope connecting to the shelving units. He didn't try to stop his tears from falling. His ankle hurt so much, so much more than any physical pain he'd ever felt before. Throughout his short life, he'd been beaten up by bullies more times than he could count. Many of those times had landed him in the hospital. But the pain from those beatings couldn't compare to the fire radiating from his shattered ankle.

The ground was freezing. He was laying directly on concrete, his school uniform jacket doing nothing to stop the cold from seeping into his bones, making him shiver. But his shivers only made his ankle throb more, but he couldn't stop. At some point - probably while he was being dragged - he'd lost his shoes. His feet were left in his thin dress socks. At least the cold acted as an ice pack for his ankle, numbing it slightly. It wasn't enough.

He missed Gil. He missed his mom and Ainsley. He missed Jackie. He even missed Vijay. Malcolm just wanted to go home. They would be frantic with worry, and once they saw the new video, it would be even worse. But it didn't matter, because Hyde wasn't planning on letting him go. Hyde was going to keep there, or sell him off to the highest bidder, or something equally as heinous. Malcolm was never going home.

The thought made his tears flow harder. He was so scared. Despite all the times that Malcolm had dreamed of running away, all he wanted to do was go home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter has a lot of filler, but I'm still pretty proud of the first half at least. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and hopefully I'll have the next chapter up in a couple of days.

Gil could barely tear his eyes away from the computer screen. Jessica hadn't yet pressed play. Her hand was shaking above the mouse, hesitant.

"We have to watch it," Gil said, his voice low. He didn't want to scare Ainsley. He would share whatever news was on the video with Jackie as soon as he could, but Ainsley didn't need to know.

"I can't, I can't, he's my baby," Jessica repeated, pulling her hand away from the mouse. Gil turned and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Then I'll watch it," he gently said. "Go sit with Ainsley. I'll tell you what they say."

"No, I can't leave him, I can't pretend this isn't happening, it's not fair to not watch it when it's meant for my eyes and-."

"Hey, hey," Gil interrupted. He ducked his head to catch her gaze. "It's alright. I'm gonna watch this video, then I'm gonna call my lieutenant. It's okay for you to not watch this." After a moment, Jessica nodded and wiped away her tears.

"Okay," she said. Jessica took a deep breath, then walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Gil sat down in the desk chair, but hesitated to press play. He was just as terrified as Jessica to see what they were doing to his kid. But someone had to watch it, and he was in a better state to do it than the kid's mom. With a deep breath, Gil pressed play.

The video began with Malcolm still seated in that chair, tied down to it and gagged. He looked alright, all things considered. One of his captors came into view, and rested his hand on Malcolm's wrist. Gil bristled at the sight of that monster laying a hand on his kid, even though there was nothing he could do to stop it. It looked as if the man was talking to Malcolm, but his words were too quiet to hear. He untied one of Malcolm's wrists, but held onto it in what looked like a bruising grip. After a moment, Malcolm nodded, and was untied the rest of the way. His captor had definitely been speaking to him, in words that Gil was not privy to.

Gil saw Malcolm flinch as he was pulled roughly to his feet. He recognized the kid's expression as one of pain, and it hurt his heart that there was nothing he could do to make it go away. The man marched Malcolm to the corner, where a lone bucket stood. It was almost out of view of the camera, which both Malcolm and his captor had their backs to. After another moment, the man turned away even more. Gil knew even before Malcolm did anything that the kid was going to take the opportunity to try something.

"Kid, don't," Gil muttered. Nothing Malcolm could do would end well, but Gil was still proud of him when he thrust his elbow back and made the man double over. Malcolm bolted out of sight, and only a moment later, his captor bolted after him with a cry of rage. Gil's stomach dropped. The man was going to hurt his kid. Malcolm was in imminent danger and there was nothing Gil could do about it.

His heart fell to his feet when he heard Malcolm's distant cries. "Help me! Somebody somebody help me!" he heard. Gil felt the burning of tears behind his eyes. His kid was terrified and Gil wasn't there to help him. Gil focused all of his attention on listening. Nothing was happening on camera, but something surely was off it. There was muffled conversation, but it was too far away from the camera to be able to make out the words. Gil kept waiting, since the video hadn't yet ended. The next thing he heard was bloodcurdling scream, turning into broken off sobs. Gil stopped trying to keep his tears from falling. Malcolm, his sweet, precious boy, his son, was being hurt, and there was nothing he could do about it. Gil had never felt more helpless in his life.

He could hear more muffled conversation, and could barely make out of the sound of Malcolm's continued cries. About a minute later, he heard another scream, the same pitch as the first. His poor kid was suffering and Gil could only listen. Another keening wail was pulled from the kid, and a few moments later, Malcolm and his captor were once again in view of the camera.

Malcolm was on the ground, on his stomach, with his hands tied together above his head. The rope lead to his captor, who was dragging him along the ground, and finally tied the rope to one of the shelving units along the wall. The old chair was pushed out of view, but all Gil was focusing on was his kid. Malcolm was sobbing, and Gil could now see why. His shoes were gone, but one of his ankles didn't look quite right.

"If your little brat hadn't tried to escape, then he would have two working feet instead of one," the man said with a chuckle upon facing the camera. For a brief moment, Malcolm looked up, his face streaked with tears. All Gil wanted to do was hold him. Malcolm buried his face back in his arms and continued to sob. "So here's what you're gonna do," his captor continued. "You're gonna get the two million in cash, non-sequential twenty dollar bills, and you're gonna drop it off under the marked bench in Riverside Park. You'll know the one when you see it. Once we have our money, we'll give you the location to pick up your brat. If you fail to drop off the money within the next thirty-three hours, then your son is ours to do with as we please."

Malcolm jerked his head back to look at the camera. "He's lying!" the kid shouted. "He won't let me-," he broke off as his captor swiftly turned and slammed his boot back down onto the kid's injured ankle. Malcolm screamed again, the sound echoing in Gil's ears and drawing another wave of tears from him. As Malcolm began to sob in earnest once again, so did Gil. He covered his mouth to keep his cries from Jessica and Jackie and Ainsley. It was a good thing that he hadn't let Jessica watch it.

"Your kid's a brat," the man growled, turning back to the camera. "And if you don't get me my two million, I'm gonna have to teach him some manners. He will learn respect. He will learn his place. And you won't like my methods." The man stared daggers at the camera as he walked closer to it, eventually becoming the only thing in the field of view. Less than a moment later, the screen turned black. The video was over, but the sounds of Malcolm's sobs were still playing on repeat in Gil's mind.

Gil gave himself one more minute to fall apart. His poor kid was out there, somewhere, in agonizing pain. Gil didn't deserve more than a minute to deal with his own feelings. He had to put everything he had into getting his kid out of there.

Minute over, Gil took a deep breath, and stood up. He wiped away the remaining tears, but knew it would be pointless to pretend he hadn't been crying. Jessica and Jackie and Ainsley were all going to see, and short of going to the bathroom and washing his face first, there was nothing that Gil could do about that - and Malcolm didn't have the time for Gil to worry about saving face.

Gil pushed the door open and walked stoically out into the sitting room. Everyone's faces blanched at the sight of him.

"Malcolm is gonna be fine," Gil immediately said. The kid was definitely in agonizing pain, but he would survive.

"Then why..." Jackie trailed off, gesturing towards his face. She took a deep breath and kept her hand on Ainsley's shoulder. The young girl was staring up at him in fear.

"They did hurt him, but it's nothing he can't heal from," he assured them. "And I truly don't think they're gonna hurt him again." They wouldn't have any reason to. Malcolm couldn't do anything with a shattered ankle. Assuming that they were able to save him before their time ran out, then Gil had no reason to believe that Malcolm was in any physical danger from them anymore. He was a smart kid. He'd tried to escape and it didn't work, and now he knew not to provoke them. The kid would just have to trust that Gil was going to get him out of it.

"My baby," Jessica cried. She covered her mouth and tried to keep herself together, but it wasn't working very well.

"What are you gonna do?" Ainsley asked him. "How are you gonna get him back?" She looked up at him in fear, but also with trust. She knew that Gil loved Malcolm more than anything or anyone - except for maybe Jackie, but that was his wife, so it was a little different - and he would move heaven and earth to get him back. The little girl believed that if anyone could save her brother, it was Gil. He only hoped to be worthy of her trust.

"I'm gonna call my lieutenant, and we're gonna get some super smart tech guys over here, and they're gonna find out where those emails came from," he answered.

"But what did they want?" Jessica interjected. "They must have given further instructions, what did they want?"

Gil sighed. "Two million in non-sequential twenty dollar bills, to be delivered to a specific bench in Riverside Park. But Jess, you know these things always end better when you let the police handle it." After a moment, Jessica nodded, but she didn't look happy about it. "I'm gonna call my lieutenant and get him over here, alright? We're gonna get him back." He looked between the three of them, then finally nodded to himself and stepped away, back into the room with the cursed videos. He pulled out his phone and tapped on his lieutenant's number.

"What is it Arroyo? It's after hours and we closed our case," the gruff man responded.

"Malcolm's been kidnapped, I need TARU at the Milton estate, but keep it discreet," Gil immediately said.

"The kid that follows you everywhere?" he asked, sounding slightly concerned. Not everyone around the precinct liked having Malcolm following them around like a puppy, but Gil's lieutenant had always been understanding enough.

"Yes, he was abducted from his boarding school, and the perps have sent two videos to his mother. I'm there now. My wife is trying to keep Jessica and her daughter calm, but I need plainclothes officers for added security and TARU here immediately. They've been communicating via email and have threatened to take the kid's sister if Jessica doesn't cooperate." Gil rattled off the address.

"Okay, I'll get everything you need. I'll be there soon." The lieutenant hung up, leaving Gil alone in the study once again. He glanced back over at the computer, where those horrible videos were. Gil didn't want to waste one more moment waiting around for something else to happen, but all he seemed to be able to do was wait. There was nothing he could do until TARU got there and gave him a lead to run down.

It would be tech alone that would give them leads in the investigation. When it came to a family like the Whitlys, both obscenely rich and hated by so many, there were just too many suspects to run down. From the videos, Gil could tell that their perps were financially motivated for the most part. The one who had spoken in the first video, at least, seemed motivated purely by the money. The other man seemed sadistic as well as money hungry, but Gil would be willing to bet that money was his top priority as well. Money was something that the Whitlys had in spades, but two million in non-sequential twenty dollar bills wasn't easy to get without raising some questions, even for those as wealthy as Jessica. He supposed that was why the kidnappers had given them thirty-six hours to start with.

Gil left the study and went back into the living room, where Jessica, Jackie, and Ainsley all sat pensively.

"Resources are on their way, and they'll be discreet. No uniforms or flashing lights." He paused for a moment, looking between the three of them. "We're gonna get him back, I promise. I'm not gonna rest until he's safe."

And he took that promise seriously. Gil didn't even sit down while they waited for TARU. He paced back and forth, despite Jackie's insistence that he was going to wear a hole in Jessica's favorite rug. There was nothing else for him to do, or even for Jessica to do. She couldn't start making calls to the bank until they opened in the morning. There was no one who would answer a phone call from her that late - aside from Gil himself, which was a sad thought in an of itself - much less be willing to drop everything to help her withdraw two million dollars. So Jessica just sat there, barely refraining from biting her perfectly manicured nails. Jackie made halting conversation with Ainsley, who was refusing to go back to bed until the police arrived. She wanted proof that work was being done to find her brother.

Gil practically ran to the door the moment the knock echoed throughout the house. Jessica was right on his heels, but Jackie stayed back with Ainsley, her hands on the young girl's slim shoulders.

"Detective Arroyo," his lieutenant greeted with a nod as he stepped inside. He turned to Jessica. "Mrs. Whitly, I'm Lieutenant Hutchins. I promise you, we are going to do everything we can to get your son back."

"Thank you. Please, call me Jessica," she said, fingering her necklace to bleed off her nerves. She motioned towards the study, where the computer was. "Do whatever you have to." The lieutenant nodded, then stood aside to allow two women into the study. Each carried a large briefcase surely filled with their equipment. Three other officers in plainclothes followed them inside, two men and a woman, all younger than Gil.

"Officers Weaver and Schmidt will stay here at all times," Hutchins said. "They'll protect your daughter. They're good with kids. Officer Taggert will follow leads with myself and Arroyo." The three officers all nodded, taking relaxed positions around them. "We will do everything in our power to save your son." Hutchins glanced at Weaver and Schmidt, then nodded towards Ainsley. They nodded back at him, then walked over towards the young girl and Jackie. "Taggert will take your statement. I need to see those videos. Arroyo, come with me." Hutchins turned on his heel and walked back to the study.

"We'll find him," Gil promised Jessica with a smile that didn't reach his eyes before turning and following his boss, ignoring Jackie's pleading glance in his direction. He still hadn't told her what was on the video. That was something he was more certainly procrastinating on, and his wife clearly didn't appreciate it. She loved Malcolm like he was her own son, and she deserved to know the truth if she wanted to, but Gil didn't have the heart to tell her, at least not yet. Gil was glad enough that Jessica was content to be ignorant of what had been done to Malcolm. But only that could last so long.

Gil didn't want to have to watch the videos again, but he knew he would have to brief his lieutenant on everything, from Jessica's frantic call to talking to Vijay to finally calling for backup. That wouldn't be a pleasant conversation, but at least things were finally moving. Soon enough, his kid was finally going to be within reach.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School and wedding planning have begun truly kicking my butt, so updates *may* slow. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review :)

Jackie didn't know what she was supposed to do. She wasn't a cop, so she didn't have any authority to actually help in the investigation, and no matter how much she wished she was, she wasn't Malcolm's mother, so she didn't have any reason for them to keep her entirely looped in. As it was, she didn't even have Ainsley to look after anymore. Officers Weaver and Schmidt were playing with her, and the girl seemed to be getting tired. Soon enough, she would finally go back to bed, content in the knowledge that progress was being made towards finding her brother. When that time came, Weaver and Schmidt would stand guard outside her door and keep the house under surveillance. Gil was still going over everything they had with his lieutenant and TARU, so that left Jackie with only Jessica for company. She'd finished giving Taggert her statement, and was now sitting on the edge of the couch, a glass of bourbon in her hand.

Jessica and Jackie had never really gotten along very well. Jackie thought that Jessica wasn't a good mother to Malcolm, or even really to Ainsley, and Jessica hated that Jackie seemed to be trying to usurp her position as Malcolm's mother. They'd never quite come to blows over it, but there had been a plethora of dirty looks and snide comments towards each other. That underlying current of dislike for each other was always just simmering under the surface, just waiting to come out and bite.

"I'm so sorry this happened," Jackie said. She figured she needed to say something, no matter how difficult it was for her, especially considering Jessica's history with Gil. That was all in the past, so Jackie didn't care about the feelings that they used to have for each other. No, Jackie only cared that Jessica had hurt Gil. It was true, without that hurt, then Jackie never would've gotten the best thing that ever happened to her. She just wished that her husband hadn't had to get hurt for that to happen.

Jessica just nodded. She didn't seem to really be paying attention to anything around her. Instead, she swirled her bourbon around and kept glancing at her phone. But why? It was too late for her to be expecting a call from anyone, and the kidnappers had only been communicating via email. There was no reason to think that they would switch things up, at least not yet. That meant that Jessica was probably thinking about calling someone, and based on her hesitance, it couldn't be anyone good.

But it wasn't Jackie's place to say anything, at least not yet. Jackie would keep an eye on the woman, and maybe tell Gil that she could've been planning something. It was only natural for a mother to consider cutting off the police and trying to get her child back her own way. If Jackie hadn't been married to Gil, and thus knew with every fiber of her being that it was wiser to try to get Malcolm back with police help, then she would've been doing the exact same thing. She loved Malcolm like the kid was her own - and he would be the only child she could ever have - so of course she would do anything in her power to get him back, legal or not.

Jackie didn't even know what those men were doing to her kid. Gil hadn't told her yet. No matter how she begged him with her eyes to tell her, Gil ignored her. Before the other cops had gotten there, that had made enough sense. It wouldn't have been wise to leave Ainsley or Jessica alone, and neither one of them needed to hear about what was being done to Malcolm. But Jackie wanted to know. She loved that kid and she needed to know how hurt he was going to be when they finally found him.

She needed to talk to Gil. With a final glance over at Jessica, who was still fidgeting with her phone, looking off into the middle distance, and at Ainsley, who, although practically falling asleep, was enraptured by whatever crazy story Officer Weaver was telling her, Jackie stood and made her way over to the study. She didn't want to interrupt, but she needed to speak with her husband.

"Gil?" she gently called out. He turned to her from his lieutenant, then, after Hutchins' nod, made his way over to her. "We need to talk," she said before he could say anything. "I need to know what's been done to Malcolm." She kept her voice low, not wanting Jessica to hear her, and not wanting to disrupt the search in any way.

Gil sighed, but nodded. "The kid tried to escape, so they broke his ankle," he admitted, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion. "I won't lie to you, it's a bad break. He's in a lot of pain, but he's gonna be okay. And now that he can't do anything, I really don't think they're gonna hurt him again. They're not in this to hurt him, they're in this for the money."

Jackie took a deep breath in an attempt to control her own emotions. She needed to stay strong. Her kid was gonna be fine. Malcolm was the strongest kid she knew, and he was gonna be just fine.

"Okay, thank you for telling me," she said to her husband. "But I think you need to keep an eye on Jessica. She keeps fidgeting with her phone like she wants to call someone, and it can't be anyone good."

"I should update her on our progress anyway," Gil replied. He glanced back at the other cops again, then gently put his arm around Jackie's shoulder and led her out of the study and back towards the main sitting room.

"What is your progress?" Jackie asked him, too impatient to be okay with waiting the several more seconds it would take to deliver the news to her son's actual mother instead of just to his surrogate. Still, Gil just looked at her, and kept them walking.

Jessica was on her feet, walking out of the room, but stopped when she saw them approaching. "I was just..." she trailed off, then shook her head. "Do you have news?" she asked instead.

"Yes and no," Gil said with a sigh. "TARU said a bunch of techno-babble that I don't understand, something about a secure VPN and Tor and anonymous networks being used to communicate." Gil shook his head. "Bottom line, we can't track where the emails are being sent from. As of right now, our best option is to increase plainclothes presence at Riverside Park and watch for suspicious activity. We'll probably have to drop a dummy bag and see who comes for it." He crossed his arms and sighed. Gil clearly wasn't any more happy with the situation than Jessica was.

"So, what, we just wait and see? I can't just wait when it's my son in their hands," Jessica countered.

"If there was any other option, you know I'd do it," Gil defended. "You know that Malcolm means everything to me-."

"You are not his father, and this is not your decision," Jessica interrupted. She held up her phone. "I know people who can help me get those two million in non-sequential twenties. It's one of the perks of being a Milton. So maybe you should let me do it. It's my money, and I will pay anything to save my son."

"Just because you pay it doesn't mean they'll let him go," Gil replied with a shake of his head. "They already said that they won't bring him to Riverside, that you're gonna have to wait after dropping off the money to know where to pick him up. There's information in the video that suggests that they're lying about letting him go at all."

Both Jackie and Jessica looked at Gil with the question clear in their eyes. "What information?" Jessica asked, her voice much softer, almost a whisper. Gil looked down at the floor.

"Malcolm said the guy was lying, in the video. That's all they let him say." He didn't make eye contact with either one of them. That was telling enough.

"Gil, what aren't you telling me?" Jessica asked. After a moment, when Gil didn't respond, Jessica pushed past him. "I need to see that video," she said.

"Jessica, wait," Gil called out, but Jessica was nothing if not determined. Jackie and Gil followed her into the study, where she was demanding access to her computer.

"I need to see it," she said. "I'm his mother, I need to see what they're doing to my son." TARU just stared at her, taking a few side glances at Gil.

"She hasn't seen it yet. I watched it instead, gave her the basics," Gil explained.

"Clearly you didn't explain enough, now let me see it," Jessica shot back.

"Mrs. Whitly, I'm not sure that's a good idea," Lieutenant Hutchins responded with a grimace. "There's upsetting material."

"No shi-."

"Jessica," Gil interrupted. "I really think it's for the best that you don't. He will be okay, I promise, but he wouldn't want you to see the video. We can get him back without you watching it."

She looked between the computer and everyone else, and finally nodded. Jessica wrapped her arms around herself in a self-comforting gesture, and stepped back.

"Come on," Jackie gently said. She wrapped her arm around Jessica's shoulders and carefully led her out of the study and back into the sitting room. Ainsley ran right up to her mother and hugged her around her waist.

"It's gonna be okay, Mom," she said. "They'll probably let Malcolm go as soon as they realize how annoying he is." Ainsley smiled up at her mom, then stepped back. "I'm going back to bed. Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight Mrs. Jackie," she said, then trotted up the stairs.

Officer Weaver came up to them. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to her," she said. "I promise. Schmidt is going to start perimeter checks, and I'll be right outside your daughter's door."

"Thank you," Jessica replied with a nod. Weaver gave her a nod in reply, then followed Ainsley up the stairs. Jessica turned back to Jackie. "Bourbon?"

"I'm really more of a vodka girl," Jackie responded around a smile. Jessica smiled back, then walked over to the drink trolley. She poured herself another glass of bourbon, and followed it up with a glass of vodka, which she handed to Jackie. The two of them sat back down on the couch, each taking occasional sips of their drinks.

"I've not known where he was before, but I've never been scared of what could be happening to him," Jessica finally said with a shrug. "Even when he would run away for a few hours, I knew he was always with you and Gil, or taking a long walk, or even seeing his father. Maybe I should've been concerned, but I never was. Maybe that does make me a bad mother."

Jackie sat in silence for a moment. What was she supposed to say? There were plenty of places where Jackie thought that Jessica had room for improvement as a mother, but it wasn't exactly her place to say anything. It certainly wasn't the right time to say anything, when Jessica was terrified that she was never going to see her son again.

"It's just, he'd always be fine," Jessica continued, saving Jackie from having to respond. "He always came back, and he was always okay, more or less. When he's at school, I know he's studying and going to all his classes and- and yes, I know he gets teased sometimes, but what kid doesn't? He's never talked to me about it, so it can't be that bad."

Jackie remained silent. It was most definitely that bad. Malcolm had come home to Jackie and Gil time and time again beat to hell, crying and hyperventilating over both the physical pain of his injuries, and the emotional pain of the cruel things they said to him. But he always went home to the Arroyos', not to Jessica, when that happened. Gil had been able to convince Jessica to give him medical power for Malcolm and Ainsley in case she was out of town, and Malcolm definitely took advantage of that. He would cry and beg and plead with Gil and Jackie not to let Jessica know, even when they had to take him to the hospital because of the severity of his injuries. Against their better judgment, they hadn't yet told her. Part of Jackie was bitter that Jessica hadn't noticed the medical bills or the new scars Malcolm came home with, but she tried to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. There had to be a lot that she was going through too.

But Jackie couldn't say any of that. She couldn't share her true thoughts as to why Malcolm didn't let his mother know what was being done to him, and she couldn't even let the woman know that Malcolm was being bullied so viciously at school in the first place. Telling her that would bring on an onslaught of questions and frantic declarations and spirals that Jackie just couldn't deal with, not while her kid was kidnapped.

"He'll be fine this time, too," Jackie insisted instead. "He's a smart kid, and Gil is going to get him out of this. You know Gil would do anything for Malcolm. He's going to get Malcolm back to us- back to you," she quickly corrected. Based on Jessica's glare, it hadn't been quick enough.

"He is my son," she said. "I am his mother. I am the one who gave birth to him."

"I know," Jackie assured her. "And Gil is going to get him back to you."

Jessica shook her head and looked down at her glass. "I could get him back myself if I just did what they said."

"You know that's a bad idea," Jackie reminded her. If Jessica did what the criminals were asking, it had such a high potential to backfire. If they lost Malcolm forever because of something Jessica did, Jackie would never forgive her. She would hate the woman forever if she lost the only son she was ever going to have because Jessica wouldn't let the police do their jobs.

"He's my son, not yours," Jessica repeated. "Maybe I should get him back my way." She threw back the rest of her bourbon like a shot, and abruptly stood. Ever the lady, she pressed the wrinkles out of her skirt, then walked out of the room, her phone in her hand.

Jackie got to her feet and rushed back to the study. Gil needed to stop her before she did something stupid and got Malcolm lost forever. She walked right up to Gil, who was in discussion with his lieutenant.

"I think she's gonna do it anyway," Jackie said, interrupting them. Gil turned towards her immediately.

"Jessica?"

"Yes, I think she's going to cooperate with them," Jackie clarified. Hutchins sighed and shook his head, but Gil held up his finger like he had an idea.

"Maybe we can work with this. We have to. Working with Jessica is going to be a lot easier than working against her," he said. Gil looked back at his lieutenant. "We let her get the money, and we keep eyes on her as she goes to the park and leaves the money there. We're going to have to leave a dummy bag there anyway, so if Jessica is dead set on doing this, we're going to have to work with it the best way we can," he explained.

"And you know that she won't be swayed?" Hutchins confirmed. Gil nodded. "Okay. We'll have to work with that then."

Gil nodded again, then put his arm around his wife and walked with her out of the study and back to the sitting room. Jackie then led him out into the next room, where Jessica was on the phone. She was tapping her foot incessantly, clearly either on hold or waiting for someone to pickup. She barely spared them a glance.

"I'm not just going to sit around and wait for other people to save my son," she said, then turned further away from them. "Come on," she muttered. "Pick up, pick up, pick up."

"Jessica, it's okay, I'm not going to stop you." Gil walked forward, with Jackie still on his heels. "You're right. Malcolm isn't our son, he's yours, and this is all ultimately up to you. If you want to pay, we can't stop you. But at least let us help you."

"I will do whatever you need me to," Jackie added. "I am here for you, and you know I'll do anything to help get Malcolm back. Absolutely anything."

Slowly, Jessica lowered the phone down from her ear. Clearly no one had picked up. She looked between the two of them, but stayed silent.

"Jackie will help you in any way she can, and when you go to deliver the money, there will be plainclothes officers all around, watching, waiting to follow whoever picks it up. Is that something we can agree on?" Gil asked.

Finally, Jessica nodded. "Okay, alright," she said. "No one is picking up at this time of night, but I have to keep trying. I have to get that money."

"We've already got officers in the park, and I'm going to take a shift too," Gil replied. "We're gonna find him, I promise."

"I can't lose him," Jessica repeated.

"You won't have to," Jackie said. She sat down next to Jessica on the couch, and hesitantly wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They didn't do that. Jackie and Jessica never did anything more than shake hands, and even that had only been on their first meeting years earlier. Still, Jackie let her arm relax atop the other woman's shoulders, and felt Jessica relaxing ever so slightly at the comforting touch.

"Thank you," Jessica muttered. "I should shower, freshen up, get ready for whatever comes next," she said. She nodded to herself, then stood, and excused herself from the room. Gil plopped down right into the space that she had vacated. Jackie immediately leaned into her husband, her head resting on his shoulder. She breathed in the fading scent of his cologne and allowed herself to be comforted by the soft fabric of his sweater.

"How are you holding up?" Gil asked her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her even closer.

"I'm scared," Jackie whispered in reply. Gil was the only one she could be honest with. For everyone else, she had to be strong and fearless, but with Gil, she didn't have to be so strong. "What if something happens? What if we never see our baby again?" Jackie closed her eyes against the tears. She hadn't let herself truly cry yet, especially not in front of Jessica, but maybe with just Gil, she could. Malcolm was the only child they were ever going to have, blood relation and DNA be damned. That boy was family through and through, their son in all ways that mattered. Jackie didn't know what she would do if something happened to her kid.

"He's gonna be okay," Gil replied. His arms remained strong around her, but Jackie could hear the waver in his voice. "He's a strong kid, he's gonna be just fine. He can hold on until we find him. He knows we're not gonna rest until he's safe. All he has to do is hold on."

Jackie didn't have to look up to see the tears in her husband's eyes. She turned herself to hug him even tighter, practically putting herself in his lap.

"I just wanna hold him," she nearly whispered. "Make sure he knows how much I love him."

"Me too, honey," Gil replied. He held onto her a little tighter. "Once we get him back, I swear I'm never letting that kid go."

Jackie quickly sat up and wiped her tears away. "Then let's get to it," she said, forcing a smile. "I'll do whatever Jessica needs, and you do whatever you have to to get our son back. Because we're getting him back."

"You're damn right we are," Gil affirmed with a nod. He stood, and reached out a hand to help his wife stand as well. "Let's get to work."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say, no matter what it seems like, Malcolm is going to be fine. The bad guys may be planning something super evil for Malcolm, so he thinks it's going to happen, but it won't. He'll be rescued long before it does. So anyone who may be concerned about something especially evil happening, don't worry. All that being said, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!!!

Malcolm wasn't sure how long he laid on that cold floor. There was no way for him to tell time as it passed. All he knew was that his tears had dried up long ago, and he was still in agonizing pain. As long as he stayed perfectly still, the burning fire in his ankle dulled to smoldering embers; still intolerable, but just barely not quite as horrific as the blazing flames that came with any amount of movement. But staying so still, for hours on end, was difficult. The concrete ground was slighting numbing, but not enough to be worth it. As much as he tried not to, he couldn't completely keep himself from shivering. It was just so cold. But those shivers moved his whole body, including his ankle, ratcheting up the pain each time. And there was absolutely nothing that Malcolm could do about it.

They'd left him there, alone, so cold, in agony. Malcolm was dreading their return, but he longed for it all the same. He couldn't get out on his own, so no matter how terrified of them he was, he needed Jekyll and Hyde to come back. Maybe if Jekyll came back alone, Malcolm would be able to convince him to let him go, or at least to not sell him off to the highest bidder instead of giving him back to his mother.

Ever since Hyde had left the room, Malcolm had been completely alone. He was still in roughly the same position that he'd been left in: lying on his stomach, his shattered ankle at an awkward angle, hands tied above his head, resting in front of him, the rope's other end tied to the shelving units. It wasn't comfortable in the slightest, but every time Malcolm shifted even slightly, pain radiated from his ankle. He was helpless, and he hated it.

It could've been hours, it could've been days, it could've been minutes, but eventually, the door finally opened again, and light streamed into the otherwise pitch black room. Malcolm blinked to force his eyes to adjust, and turned his head towards the door. He couldn't make out the silhouette, but it could only be Jekyll or Hyde. The sounds of the man's boots on the concrete was so much louder than it should've been, making Malcolm flinch with every step he took. The man knelt down in front of him.

"Time to go for a ride, kid," he said. It was Hyde. Malcolm reflexively tensed, making his ankle throb even more and drawing a small whimper from him.

"Where are we going?" Malcolm asked, his voice shaking. From all the time he'd spent with Gil, he knew that going to a secondary location after getting kidnapped was never good.

"Somewhere fun," Hyde replied around an evil grin. "Well, not fun for you."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, despite the pit that formed in his stomach as he considered Hyde's words, paired with the man's earlier threats. Hyde untied the rope from the shelving unit but left his hands bound.

"I think you know exactly what I mean by that," Hyde said. He crouched down closer to Malcolm. "Now, here's what's gonna happen. You're not gonna fight me at all. If you do, I will grind the broken bones of your ankle into such tiny pieces that reconstruction will be impossible, and amputation will be the only option. Am I understood?"

Malcolm closed his eyes against his tears. "Yes," he said, just loudly enough for Hyde to hear him. He couldn't get away on his own anyway. There was no point in even attempting to fight back when it could only end badly for him. He would have to bide his time and wait. There would come a point when fighting back would be the right move, that point just hadn't arrived yet.

"Good boy," Hyde said. He then reached down, and in one swift movement, had Malcolm up on his shoulder. Malcolm couldn't help but let out a sob as the throbbing returned with full force, now that his ankle was hanging down and tapping against Hyde's torso with every step the man took. He squirmed in the man's grasp, reflexively trying to alleviate the pressure, but Hyde only held onto him tighter. "Stop squirming," he growled. Malcolm forced himself to go limp in the man's grasp, and tried to breathe through the pain, closing his eyes.

After a minute of walking, Malcolm opened his eyes again. They were just walking up the stairs towards the main level of the parking garage. The rope around his wrists dragged behind them, but there wasn't anyone around to see. But Malcolm could see something in Hyde's pocket, and it was within his grasp. He took a deep breath and focused on it. It was a pocket knife, loosely clipped to Hyde's back pocket of his pants. It had ridden up, and came up closer to him with every step Hyde took up the stairs. Malcolm had to take it. He at least had to try.

Reaching down as far as he could, Malcolm gave a gentle pull on the knife, grinning when it instantly came free. He kept it in his hands, and pushed it back closer to his wrists. With his hands loosely clasped, the knife was hidden from view, partially thanks to the rope binding his wrists together. Malcolm knew there was as good of a chance that he'd just made a horrible decision as there was that he'd made the right one, but he would take the win for the moment.

The parking garage was just as empty as it was earlier, but Malcolm noticed the van he'd been abducted from campus in. They weren't going back to that van, they were going to an entirely different vehicle. A moment later, they stopped, and Malcolm heard the telltale sound of a car trunk being opened. His eyes went wide. He was going to be put in that trunk.

"No, wait," he said, but it did nothing to stop Hyde from tossing him from his shoulder into the trunk. Malcolm's shriek of pain as his shattered ankle hit the trunk echoed throughout the garage, but Hyde didn't seem to care. Wherever they were, it was isolated or abandoned.

Malcolm kept his hands clenched tightly together as Hyde grabbed the rest of the rope and began wrapping it around Malcolm's torso and legs, further immobilizing him. Once he finished, Hyde shoved another rag into Malcolm's mouth, making him gag.

"You'll be fine," Hyde muttered, then grinned. "Get ready to make me some money, kiddo." The man laughed, then slammed the car trunk shut, trapping Malcolm in darkness once again.

It was all Malcolm could do to stay calm. Panicking wasn't going to help. Thinking about the girl and all of his father's other victims wasn't going to help. He needed to breathe through the pain. He needed to focus.

Despite the girl's faint whispers in his ears, telling him to find her, Malcolm managed to slow his breathing enough to prevent a panic attack. He wasn't claustrophobic, he would be fine. As long as he kept himself from thinking about the girl, he would be fine. It was true, he was trapped in a dark and confined space, unable to move or call for help, just like she was, and he was heading towards a dark destination filled with pain and anguish and suffering and-

Malcolm cried out as the car braked, his momentum slamming his ankle into the wall of the trunk. But this time, Malcolm was grateful for the pain, since it brought him out of his spiral. He needed to focus. Malcolm began to wiggle his hands, using the little bit of slack he had to bring the knife he'd grabbed up from where he'd hidden it between his wrists and into his grasp. He got it in between his fingers, and after a few tries, managed to get the blade out. Carefully, as not to nick himself, he turned the blade around in his hands and slid it back down towards his wrists. It was slow going, but Malcolm was able to move the knife back and forth in little sawing motions, slowly snapping individual fibers of the rope.

Once again, time lost all meaning, as Malcolm continued to saw away at his bonds. He could faintly hear the city traffic, but he knew no one would be able to hear him if he tried to scream. With the way that his hands were bound low, with the rope then wrapping around his legs, he couldn't reach up to pull the dirty cloth from his mouth. All he could do was keep working at cutting the ropes. He was making progress. He could feel more slack, and knew that he'd at least sawed through a third of the rope.

Malcolm almost sobbed with relief as the rope snapped some time later. The car was still moving, so he still had time. The first thing he did was reach up and take the disgusting rag out of his mouth. Malcolm tried to spit the taste out of his mouth, but it didn't do much. He would've killed for some water. His throat was so sore, and parched. After a moment, Malcolm carefully reached down and began to unwind the rest of the rope from his legs.

But that didn't change his predicament. He was still trapped in that trunk. But Gil had been drilling self defense tactics into him for years now. The only problem was that Malcolm was often too scatterbrained to pay real attention to what Gil was trying to teach him. He would have to work on that when he got out of his current situation. But Gil had definitely told him before how to get out of a trunk. He just had to focus, and remember what Gil had said.

The tail lights. He had to kick out the tail lights. That's what Gil told him to do. First, he was going to have to get the light exposed enough so that kicking it out was an option. Malcolm felt around until he hit the corner of the trunk. That's where the tail light would be. He needed to get the light exposed. Malcolm drove the knife into the fabric, and started sawing away at it until there was a large enough hole that he could tear the rest of the carpeting away.

With the carpet out of the way, the plastic paneling was thin enough that he could just tear it off. Light began to refract through the polymer of the tail light casing. Now, all he had to do was kick out the light, and call for help. That was going to make noise. It could be loud enough that Hyde could hear it, or maybe Malcolm would get lucky, and the sounds of the city traffic would drown it out. There was no way for him to know, but he couldn't just lie there any longer. He needed to at least make an attempt to call for help while he could.

But he couldn't exactly kick the light out either. That would involve moving his entire body around. Under normal circumstances, Malcolm was definitely small enough to manage it, but his ankle couldn't take that sort of treatment. Punching it out was the only way to go.

Feeling around for the dirty cloth that he'd discarded, Malcolm wrapped it around his knuckles, trying not to think of where that rag had been, other than his mouth. With a deep breath, Malcolm pulled his fist back, then launched it at the tail light. He winced at the pain and the noise, but was satisfied to hear a crack in the polymer. The sedan kept on driving, so Malcolm hit it again, and again, each time hearing it crack more and more.

The car swerved, then began to slow. Malcolm needed to hurry up. He hit it one more time, and breathed a sigh of relief as the light finally broke apart completely, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. Malcolm immediately shoved his hand out and began waving frantically. He pulled himself up further to get his face closer to the gap. The car was coming to a stop, and they looked to be in one of the more run down areas of the city. Malcolm couldn't see anyone else, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try to call for help anyway.

"Help!" he shouted. The car was stopped, but he didn't see any other cars around. "Please, someone help me!" he screamed as tears began to build in his eyes. That was his one chance, and no one was around - or, if they were around, they didn't care. The driver's side door slammed shut. "Anybody!" he cried out, his voice breaking. No one was there. No one was going to help him. He gripped the knife in his hand again, and the moment that the trunk lid opened, he pushed himself up with one hand, keeping all the weight off his broken ankle, and swung at his captor, striking a glancing blow off Hyde's torso. It wasn't enough.

"Son of a bitch!" Hyde shouted in pain, but as Malcolm swung again, Hyde dodged to the side, reached down, and grabbed onto Malcolm by his shattered ankle.

Malcolm shrieked, dropping the knife, and Hyde let him. He didn't gag him, or tell him to stop screaming. He let him cry out, as if he were so certain that no one was around that he didn't care how loud Malcolm was.

Finally, he let go, but Malcolm was too weak to make another attempt at escape. Hyde leaned in close and grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head up and forcing eye contact.

"Do you not remember agreeing not to fight me?" he seethed. "Do you not remember what I said I would do to you if you did?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Malcolm sobbed, terror completely overriding every other instinct at the idea of his ankle being even further destroyed.

"Oh, you're gonna be sorry, kid," Hyde said.

"Don't, don't, please don't, please," Malcolm begged, tears streaming down his face. What else was he supposed to do? He'd run out of other options.

Hyde just glared at him for a moment, before an evil grin finally broke out on his face. "Okay, but only because I don't want it to be so disfigured that it grosses out our customers." Hyde began to laugh as Malcolm blanched, the knowledge of exactly what Hyde was talking about being further cemented in his mind. "Feel free to scream, fight, kick, I don't even care. There's no one around who cares. The people in this part of town like to mind their own business."

Without another word, Hyde grabbed onto Malcolm and threw him over his shoulder just like he had before. The change in blood pressure to his ankle made it throb in earnest once again. Malcolm didn't try to hide his cry of pain, but, just like Hyde had said, there wasn't anyone around to hear him. There were a few other cars in the parking lot, but those cars were just as old as the sedan that Malcolm had been trapped in. Malcolm let Hyde carry him into the sleezy motel room. He didn't fight as Hyde dropped him onto the old motel mattress, and only put up a token of resistance as his wrists were once again bound, then tied to the headboard. At least the mattress was more comfortable than the concrete floor.

"I'll be back later. I've got to meet up with some friends, and I'm sure they'd love to meet you," Hyde said with a dark chuckle. He turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness. The blackout curtains were pulled tight over the windows. At the sound of the door closing, and locking shut, Malcolm closed his eyes against the tears. It had been hours, at least, and he was still in the same position he had been.

Malcolm curled up as best he could without disturbing his ankle, and let himself cry.


End file.
